Bragg
is justly famous in the history of science: he remains the youngest
ever winner of a Nobel Prize (at the age of 25 he shared the 1915 Nobel Prize in Physics with his father William Henry Bragg,
for their work developing X-ray crystallography). The previous year he
had been elected to a fellowship and lectureship at Trinity College,
Cambridge. During the First World War he developed techniques of sound
ranging on the Western Front, and he succeeded Ernest Rutherford
as Professor of Physics at Manchester University in 1919. In 1937 he
was appointed Director of the National Physical Laboratory, but had not
even left Manchester when Rutherford, who had moved to Cambridge, died.
Against some misgivings from his father, Bragg replaced Rutherford
again, this time as Cavendish Professor of Experimental Physics.

It is as Cavendish Professor that he interests us. J. A. Ratcliffe, head of the radio ionosphere research group at the Cavendish and a trusted lieutenant of Bragg, had this to say about him:

A
Cavendish Professor plays at least four parts. He must be a scientist,
run the laboratory, uphold the interests of the department in the
University, and act as an Elder Statesman of Science outside. Bragg was
pre-eminently the active scientist, and he ran the laboratory extremely
well. I do not think he played the part that some others have done in
the University itself, and I am not sure that his part as Elder
Statesman was quite as large as theirs would have been. I found him
extremely helpful and kindly, and above all things a real gentleman in
every way. He was quite open and straight-forward and ready to help
anyone who had the good of the laboratory at heart. I think there was
an extremely good feeling in the laboratory during his time and all
liked him.

That's a pretty glowing report for a boss
to receive, and it is clear that Bragg excelled as a manager. As soon
as he came to the Cavendish he was thinking strategically about how it
needed to change, and he explained his ideas in 1942 in Physicists After the War:
Britain produced just one good physicist per million population and the
demand for physicists exceeded supply. In future, scientists would
need to pay more attention to the technical applications of their
research. His ideas in this field influenced Derek Price, who would go
on to develop the field of scientometrics - the statistical study of science.

He
felt his role as a manager was to create the conditions for discoveries
to take place. The best conditions for "brain-waves", he felt,
involved collaboration, discussion, and cross-fertilisation of ideas.
They did not arise in large, amorphous organisations, or come to
isolated individuals. So he restructured the Cavendish into research
units, of 6-12 scientists, with a few assistants, one or two mechanics,
and a workshop. (It was apparently very important that the workshop be
well supplied with junk, so that new ideas could be tried out quickly
and at low cost.) The rapid expansion of the Cavendish (from about 40
researchers before WWII to 160 by 1948) meant that some research groups
had to be sub-divided. Nevertheless, he promoted contact between
groups, and encouraged senior researchers to continue teaching
undergraduates, hoping that this would stimulate the flow of ideas.

The
fact that each group had its own workshop (as well as a central
workshop for the largest and most specialised tasks) meant that there
was some duplication of functions. Bragg felt that it was better to
have extra machines and occasional underemployment of technicians, than
to delay research because the workshops were too busy.

It was in one of these workshops that King Arthur's Table
was built. Derek Price had come to the Cavendish to put the archives
in order and catalogue the Laboratory's collection of antique scientific
instruments. Bragg supported Price's application for an ICI Fellowship
to fund his PhD studies on medieval astronomical instruments, and it
seems likely that Bragg took advantage of the workshops' flexibility to
commission them to produce a six-foot wood and brass equatorium - rather different from their usual work in cutting-edge physics!

These
kinds of jobs were done without paperwork, so I am unlikely to be able
to discover the precise circumstances of the equatorium's production.
But I am glad to have discovered more about a major contributor to the
success of the Cavendish Laboratory, and a key figure in
twentieth-century science.

Among much hyperbole and inaccurate reporting (no, Observer, Key Stage 3 does not end at age 18), there was an excellent, balanced letter from the presidents of various historical societies. It's worth reading in full but I'll quote a couple of passages here.

First, they note (as I did) the issue of relegating all pre-modern history to primary schools, where it won't be taught by specialist historians:

we regret that the construction of the Programme in a strictly
chronological sequence from Key Stage 2 to Key Stage 3 ensures that many
students will not be properly exposed to the exciting and
intellectually demanding study of pre-modern history other than in the
very earliest stages of their studies.

More fundamentally, they criticise the way the curriculum was drafted:

The contrast with the practice of the Conservative government of the
late 1980s when it drafted the first national curriculum is striking.
Then, a history Working group, including teachers, educational experts
and academics, worked in tandem with the ministry of the day to produce
first an interim report and than a final report in the midst of much
public discussion.

The curriculum that resulted was widely
supported across many professional and political divisions in the
teaching and academic professions and by the general public. The current
government was certainly right to feel that after many interim changes
it was time for a fresh look. Unfortunately, it has not attempted to
assemble the same kind of consensus and, as a result, it has produced a
draft curriculum that it can be argued could still benefit from
extensive discussion about how to ensure that it best serves both good
practice and the public interest.

This, I'd suggest, is the result of a political climate that combines a distrust of the teaching profession with a desire to use history as a tool to promote national pride and placate the Conservative base. As the letter-writers recognise, there is much in the new curriculum to welcome, but such policy-making motives are unlikely to benefit future generations of schoolchildren.

Saturday, 16 February 2013

To those who have managed to keep up with the astounding pace of
policy changes flowing from the Department for Education in recent
months, it will come as no surprise to see Secretary of State Michael Gove quoting Matthew Arnold in the introduction to his new National Curriculum. The draft curriculum, which was released for consultation last week, begins with this as the first of two Aims:

The
National Curriculum provides pupils with an introduction to the core
knowledge that they need to be educated citizens. It introduces pupils
to the best that has been thought and said; and helps engender an
appreciation of human creativity and achievement.

You may (especially if you listened to the excellent "Value of Culture" series on BBC Radio 4 recently), recognise this as directly quoting Culture and Anarchy, by the Victorian poet, critic and schools inspector. Arnold wrote:

The
whole scope of the essay is to recommend culture as the great help
out of our present difficulties; culture being a pursuit of our total
perfection by means of getting to know, on all the matters which most
concern us, the best which has been thought and said in the world.

So, what is on this new Victorian's list of "the best that has been thought and said"?

Well,
in History at least (the subject I taught for 5 years), it seems that
the omission of Arnold's "in the world" is significant: the new
curriculum focuses squarely on British - and usually English - history.
And we get a very clear idea of what bits of British history are to be
taught: unlike the current curriculum, which is deliberately non-prescriptive, the draft programme of study
(pages 166-171) is laid out in considerable detail, almost as chapter
headings of the new textbooks which the publishing/examining conglomerates
are sure to rush into print. Unlike the present system, which does not
insist on the study of any single person (Olaudah Equiano and William
Wilberforce are named, but only in passing: "the work of people such
as..."), the proposed new regime hopes to drum in knowledge of dozens of
famous figures, from Alfred and Athelstan through "Clive of India" and
Christopher Wren, to Attlee and Margaret Thatcher.

There's
a curious dissonance in the publication of such a prescriptive
curriculum by an education secretary who boasts of giving unprecedented
freedom to schools. (The level of prescriptive detail has been criticised even by one of Gove's strongest supporters, the economic historian and free-market apologist Niall Ferguson.)

Despite
considerable media interest in the proposed curriculum, the most
significant change has barely been mentioned. The content for Key Stage
3 (ages 11-14) starts in the mid-17th century with "The Enlightenment
in England" (a topic that, curiously from an Education Secretary born
and raised in Aberdeen, includes the proud Scot Adam Smith). This means
that the earlier history of Britain, from the Stone Age through to the
Glorious Revolution and 1707 Acts of Union, will be taught in primary
schools (Key Stage 2, ages 7-11), where teachers are highly unlikely to
be history specialists.

As a medievalist, I am worried
by this. But I do also recognise the sense in ending the repetition
that currently exists between primary and secondary history (typical class discussion: "We already learned about Henry VIII." "Oh, did
you?" "Yes. He was fat, and he had lots of
wives."). And I can see that focusing the last 3 years of compulsory
History in on the last 3 centuries of British history provides a great
opportunity to include some fascinating content.

Here, almost
for the first time, is the history of science. "Scientists such as
Isaac Newton or Michael Faraday" get a mention in Key Stage 1 (ages 5-7;
if there are any primary school teachers reading this, I'd love to know
how you would approach this topic). In Key Stage 2 we have "Chaucer
and the revival of learning" (there's a whole blog post's worth of
debate in that title). And Key Stage 3 gives us Bacon, Newton, the
Royal Society and the Industrial Revolution (Watt, Stephenson and Brunel
are named).

I would like to imagine that this will
lead to innovative cross-curricular collaboration, as young people study
Newtonian mechanics, Swiftian satire, and Voltaire in the original
French, all put into broader context in their History classes. Or at least, for the history of science, kids could learn about discoveries and the development of ideas, anchored in understanding of the societies and conditions in which they arose, rather than as isolated eureka moments or landmarks on the way to our current state of scientific perfection.

But
since the bulk of the curriculum comprises topics such as "Britain and
her Empire" (note the gendered pronoun), "the conquest of Canada", and
"the Indian Mutiny and the Great Game", it seems that Gove's aim,
despite the modernising rhetoric in which it's sometimes clothed, is the
same old glorification of Our Island Story
(1905) - "the story of the people of Britain [which] tells how they
grew to be a great people" (p. 4). Yes, I still have a copy, and yes,
it's a wonderful story - that's all its author ever intended it to be.
But if it's to be used as the basis for a 21st-century education it
could do with some updating; and so, I fear, could Gove's ideas.

Actually, he could do with studying Arnold more carefully. The passage I quoted above continues: "and, through this knowledge, turning a stream of fresh and free
thought upon our stock notions and habits". Stock notions abound in the new history curriculum, but fresh and free thought? That's one deficit the government hasn't made much progress in clearing.

About Me

My name is Seb Falk. I'm a medieval historian and historian of science. I'm also a sailor, singer, marathon-runner and dog-lover.

My research centres on the sciences practised by monks and scholars in the later Middle Ages - and especially their scientific instruments. I am also very interested in the ways history is presented to the public (e.g. in museums) and taught in schools.

In 2016-17 I am one of the BBC's New Generation Thinkers, and will be explaining my research in several programmes on Radio 3.